


Catch My Ruin

by Cumvore, Slither-the-least (baeberiibungh)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Crying, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misconceptions, Mutual Pining, Prostitution, kind of, oblivious fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7821469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumvore/pseuds/Cumvore, https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeberiibungh/pseuds/Slither-the-least
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is a prostitute. He insists so. Derek is his only client…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles leans on the frame of the door, his tee short enough to show his midriff. He arches one enquiring eyebrow, a snark sharp smirk on his lips as he says, “Well, hey there my favourite customer. What will it be today?”

Derek just clenched his jaw before growling out, “A fuck.”

“Ah, my favourite kind. The non verbal day. What happened? Scotty getting too uppity for your assholean leanings? Peter bit your shin again? Cora decimated your wardrobe? Com’on sourwolf, let me at the deets. Your life is the only entertainment I can afford nowadays. In fact why don’t you jusnmmfff…” Stiles is silenced with Derek’s tongue in his mouth. 

A hand punches the wall by Stiles’ head to which he had been shoved after the door closed with a bang, helped by a deft kick. Stiles does not flinch. This is normal behavior. It also means that today’s fuck will be rougher and longer and Derek will lick, lick, lick at him till he is satisfied. Also that it will be a long night and Stiles will not be able to walk straight tomorrow.

It also means a nice little stack of notes bundled together with a rubber band will be on his table when he wakes up alone tomorrow morning. Enough to cover the electricity bill, food for a week, utilities, gas for Roscoe and a few of his dad’s more recent bill. It will be definitely enough to last before Derek comes by again to fuck Stiles into an unholy mess and leave him more money.

It started as just a little upset stomach. The Sheriff insisted some antacid was all he needed. But Stiles needled and pushed him to go to the doctors. The doctors mentioned how it was such a good thing he did come when he did, for they were able to catch the disease at a primary stage. The treatment was not cheap though.

Stiles went into an unbridled panic. He went home and listed everything he could sell, like his comics collection which had some gems, his X-box, even Roscoe. The Stilinskis had no saving, no college fund for Stiles, all of it already spent over Claudia and Stiles refused to not give his all to save his father this time. 

Scott called and tutted over the news and offered to sell off his bike. Stiles told him not to, tears running down his face. There was no one to ask, no one at all. Lydia was no longer quite rich, Melissa and Scott were barely scrapping by, all the others with their problems of their own. It was an epiphany to think of Derek. Derek, with whom he was secretly in love.

With his heart in his throat, Stiles went to Derek, but the meaning got all twisted which is how the world got presented with Stiles Stilinski, whore for one possessive werewolf, for money, for his father. At first, Derek just made Stiles suck him off. But as the days, weeks, months went, he got comfortable enough to not stop Stiles with a firm grip when he offered more.

It certainly did something to his other relationship. Everyone thought they were dating and Scott was always scrunching his nose because, of course, Derek liked to go raw. Stiles had only ever kissed a girl before this thing with Derek, and now if he were to ever spell out all the things he had done with Derek, he was not sure how his friends would look at him anymore.

Derek with his penchant of wolfy behavior, with his bloody bites, not a big problem as a beta, scenting all of Stiles skin till he felt raw from the beard burn, licking him everywhere because Derek liked how he tasted, armpits and ass included and octopus level of cuddling after he was done for the night.

Derek would loosen up after such nights, pulling Stiles to his chest with a definite animal rumble and Stiles, tired and exhausted and sated and sad, would wish on his bitten tongue and words that would never leave him that he knew if what he felt for Derek was even love anymore. There were no demarcations in his life now. He let Derek do anything to him so long as he get paid.

That, Stiles insisted to his image in the bathroom mirror was the legal description of a prostitute. Some days he would feel a hazy sense of panic, when he would think of when Derek would have enough of such a pricy whore when he could find people to throw themselves at his feet anytime and Stiles who knew how Derek’s face looked sleepy and sated would have no claim to him. 

So each morning after Derek left, Stiles would hide his face in his pillow, eyes wet with unshed tears as he ran his hand over the bruises Derek left behind. Press into them with a hiss and remember how good, how carefree he had looked sucking the mark into Stiles skin. Then he would get up, pocket the money and get on with his life.

Stiles was simply too miserable and stretched thin over looking after his father to see how Derek watched him at the scant pack meeting he attended now. Lydia noticed how brittle his smile looked. Isaac noticed how Derek would smell of deep sadness when he saw Stiles even though they were apparently dating.

Derek kissed him till Stiles mouth felt number and palmed at his hard cock. He pulled out Stiles’ cock, got down to his knew and took Stiles in within a single breath that made Stiles choke. Stiles kept his hands on Derek’s hair, touching him softly and if his eyes closed of their own accord and if he felt teary at the pleasure crashing through him, Derek did not bring it up. 

As predicted, Derek fucked him late into the night, making him come three times, till he lay exhausted and all out of it while Derek sucked his own come out of Stiles’ hole, slurping at his rim like a delicacy. Stiles fell asleep like that, feeling safe and cared for somehow with Derek trying to make him come a fourth time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the misconceptions came to be...

Derek was about to order pizza when he smelled Stiles, heard the loud thump of his heartbeats and the flat thunks of his sneakered feet. He smelled anxious, but it was to be expected, Derek supposed. The Sheriff was in the hospital. Derek knew that he was doing very good under their care, but Stiles was obviously going to be worried. As Stiles came nearer, Derek wondered where he was getting the money for the bills. It was good that Stiles was here already because Derek had been about to have talk with him about it anyway. Derek has enough to meet his and each member of his pack’s necessary needs and while he had repeatedly insisted that Stiles is part of the pack, he will need clearer claim to accept the money for the Sheriff.

Stiles let himself in, and Derek’s nose was completely assailed by the stench of the anxiety just wafting from him, this overtly sweaty smell that covered the rest of Stiles natural aroma. Derek raised his eyebrows slightly, which was his version of a non verbal ‘Hi’. Stiles nodded back distractedly. Stiles came and sat near Derek on the sofa, a companionable feet between them as he bit his lips redder. Seeing how tense he was, sought to distract him from his worry with food.

“I am about order pizza. What do you want on yours?” Derek asked, foregone conclusion that Stiles will be staying that long and be OK to.

“Um, the usual I guess,” Stiles said with his spit slick lips, still worried, his brow still a wave of vague lines as he clearly thought about something. 

Derek placed the orders, two large meat lovers for himself, a medium one with extra cheese and pepper for Stiles. Placing the mobile on the coffee table, and brought back two cans of soda. With the whole of the pack being underage, Derek always kept himself stocked well with soda and junk food for them. He handed one to Stiles, sack down in his spot and asked, “How is your father doing?”

“He is doing better now, hardly any pain, or so he says, but the doctors are agreeing so I guess he is not lying,” Stiles said and then took a long sip from his can. It was orange and tasted too sweet and smelled chemical and he would have preferred water to parch his very dry throat, but he didn’t want Derek to get up again or get up himself without finishing what he wanted to talk about. 

“Stiles,” Derek said with hesitation visible in his face and voice, “what are you going to do about your dad’s bills?”

Suddenly overcome with more nervousness at asking money from Derek so straightforward, Stiles tried to diffuse the situation with a lame joke and said, “Oh, you know, by being the Beacon Hills new resident teenage hooker.”

Derek stilled immediately. His eyes were wide and his nostrils flared and red was creeping into the edge of his irises. “What did you say?” Derek asked with a slight rumble of the wolf’s rage in his voice. Stiles gulped and his eyes were panicky wide. He opened his mouth to say something when Derek lunged at his, pinned him to the sofa and growled out through his lengthening fangs and descending claws, “No one touches you, no one! If you want to get fucked for money, I will be the one. As much money as you want, and you will carry only my scent. You are my pack, MINE!”

Stiles was already nodding jerkily, calling himself a fucking fool that he had never checked the potential of a sex worker in a werewolf pack. Anyway, it was just a joke, but Stiles did not have quite the guts to point it out. Also, sex with Derek. It seemed like a worthy sacrifice in some deep crevice of his muddled brain. 

Derek shifted back into his human form, leaned back and then said curly, “Blow me Stiles.” If he were in a more aware state, the wolf under control, he would not have said those words like issuing an order. Rage was still rolling in his stomach, every time he remembered those scant words Stiles said making the wolf want to jump out of his skin in a fluid transformation and claim Stiles with a proper bite to the back of his neck and his cock pulsing his cum deep into him. The anger was making the wolf feral in its need to dominate, so Derek the human did the only thing that would let him still have a semblance of control – make Stiles suck him off so that he will carry his scent around to warn everyone.

Stiles was on his knees before Derek, hands fumbling with Derek’s pants as he tried to open the zipper. His eyes kept glancing to Derek’s eyes and away and Derek wanted him to not look so confused and smell both aroused and afraid. But he was wrangling his wolf as best as he can, his hand punching hole into the leather of the sofa. When Stiles leaned in, breathing wetly at the tip of Derek’s half hard cock, Derek thumped his head back into the sofa, eyes closing by itself as he was afraid that the sight will be enough to send it over. The fact that it was Stiles before him, with his mouth silent and open now, was doing more for them then stacked experience on any other.

Stiles gave a tentative lick and Derek gave a hiss. His cock got hard very, very quickly. Soon, Stiles was licking at it in broad stripes and getting him wet properly. There was the sense of inexperience behind his action, how he kept shifting his hand around the cock, his tongue quite not rolling around as it should. Then he opened his mouth wide and shoved, the soft head hitting the back of his throat. Stiles gagged and pulled back immediately, but Derek was already coming, in quick spurts that decorated Stiles’ face in traces of white. They looked strikingly beautiful on his mole dotted skin and wide red mouth and wider eyes fixed on Derek.

Derek pumped himself till he was empty. Stiles was still on his knees, his ass on his feet while his hands were on his own thighs. His eyes were wide blown. Derek could smell the wetness of Stiles’ cock wetting his underwear. 

Derek shoved Stiles back till he was lying on the floor, and then licked the cum off his face in long swipes of his tongue. Stiles made a small sound at that that Derek liked. The wolf was sated, anger dissipated for the moment and content. When Stiles’ face was clean, Derek shuffled lower, opened up Stiles’ jeans and pulled his boxers down and swallowed him in one breath that made Stiles half scream his name. It was over fairly quickly. 

They lay like that for a few minutes, breath coming down from the frantic beat it was before. Stiles lay on the cold ground, his hands splayed by his side, his pants open and Derek resting his head on the edge of his hip, breathing at his groin so that the pubes ruffled in the slight wind. Then Derek got up, shoved himself in and zipped himself and walked up to his bedroom. Stiles watch him leave and then got up. His cock was still out, resting soft in its pubic patch. He pulled his legs in to sit Indian style, shoved his still wet with saliva cock into his boxer and pulled his jeans over them but did not zip it up.

Derek came back with a stack of rolled up bills and put them on the coffee table, near the cans of the half drunk soda. The buzzer suddenly went off and Stiles stood up so fast that he felt dizzy. His heartbeat went up, scared that it is one of the pack and they will know, _they will know_.

“It’s just the pizza,” Derek said as he went to the door. 

Stiles took a relived breath. Derek came back with three boxes. Stiles did not think he could eat here now after what had just happened. Derek put the boxes on the table, picked up the smaller one again and put the roll of money on it before walking to Stiles he reached out his right hand and rubbed at something, most probably Derek’s come, while the rest of his hand curled around his cheek and neck.

“No one else Stiles,” Derek said with the most intense looking face Stiles had ever seen on him and it was saying something. “I promise. I swear, Der, I swear, no one else, I am sorry,” Stiles replied, his eyes feeling wet all of a sudden.

Derek pulled him near and kissed him just above his eyebrow, put the pizza box and money in his hands, turned away and went up, letting Stiles know he was to let himself out. Which Stiles did, fingers clasped around the cardboard pizza box tighter than necessary, creasing the lines of the box and possibly misshaping the pizza. Stiles did not care. He got into the jeep, put the Pizza in the passenger seat, shoved the wad of notes into his pants pocket and drove home with blurry eyes. 

One week later, Derek climbed in through the window and Stiles closed his room’s door even though there was no one else in the whole house. He blew Derek there, on the floor of his childhood room with movie posters and game pinups lining his walls and Derek’s hands in the hair, not pushing, just there. After Derek came, Derek made Stiles lie on the bed while he blew Stiles slower than last time, licking and sucking till Stiles came with a sudden jerky moment. He fell asleep after, Derek’s breathe fanning his pubes again.

The next morning when Stiles woke up, there was another roll of cash by his laptop. His eyes prickled again although he could not have possibly given an actually reason as to why he felt like crying. He didn’t though, looking at the shape of the roll with hazy eyes, but couldn't help wishing in some secret corner of his heart for a kiss instead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How those misconceptions were got rid of…

The sheriff wipes his mouth and looks at his son. He remembers just yesterday Stiles crawling on the porch and here he is, acting all mama hen, making sure his father continues to be well, possibly forever. It has been one week since the Sheriff has been back, the hospital giving him a clean chit with regards to his health that had Stiles tearing up and clutch his father with tight fingers while the Sheriff had run his hands through Stiles head with one hand, rubbing his back in soothing circles with the other. The stress his young boy had been in had been evident in his too tight lips and too straight back and the eyes that refused to leave his face whenever Stiles visited his father in the hospital.

The news of his illness had been a shock to him, but the more alarming matter had been who would look after Stiles now. He was just a teenager, and there had been so eggnest secreted away for him. That had felt more like a failure than him falling sick. When the doctors had come back with the diagnosis, Stiles had been with him, his hand curled on one of John’s shoulder. It had gripped hard enough to bruise when the doctor had named the disease. There were options on account of the disease being caught so early on, but they were expensive. John was still paying off the mortgage from Claudia’s medical bills. What could he do, who could he ask? The insurance money had been there, but not enough, not enough.

So imagine his surprise when he called the doctor one day after being home to talk about the pending bills and if they could set up some system through which John might be able to pay them off, the doctor had been surprised and confused as they informed him that his son had already paid all of his medical dues. John sat shocked in his office chair, kept clean enough by Stiles that John felt like he was away for just a day or two. It had been a hefty amount. When John asked Stiles, Stiles just said that he had taken care of it. Taken care of it how? How did a teenager get so much money and so quickly? But every time the Sheriff tries to ask more, Stiles completely derailed the conversation.

John taps his fingers on the table, a small frown on his brow, his face fixed on his son. Stiles washes the dishes at the sink while he talks about nonsense at school. Stiles mobile pings and he hastily rubs his hands in his tee to pick it up. A look passes his face, something sad and dire and John frowns some more. Just what has his boy got up into? Stiles cleans the table, kisses his dad and admonishes him to get to bed early and then tells him how he is going to Scott to help with his homework as he picks up the keys of Roscoe. John smiles and says bye and half an hour later calls up Melissa. He keeps the conversation general as both talk about what has been going on. It is enough for John to understand that Stiles is not at the McCalls as he had said.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Isaac is tired and feeling a bit sick, if that is even possible. Derek said that his smell is a little off, not bad, just off. When he went to Deaton, Deaton informed him that he has a cold, the canine version, runny nose and no sense of smell. Derek cooked him up a huge bowl of spicy chicken soup with lots of potatoes and lentils and now he was sitting in a nest of blankets, circled by dirty tissues as he tried to just ooze into his bed. It was supposedly a bit contagious so the rest of the pack are not coming to Derek’s loft till Isaac is well and Derek himself seems to forget that Isaac is now living in his loft because he smells so different than usual. So when the bell rings late one night, Isaac wonder who it might be as his nose is completely blocked.

He hears Derek step to the sliding door and pull it aside. There are loud thumps of heartbeats and a wavering human body. Stiles. 

Stiles steps in and Derek slides the door close again. Isaac can hear the squish of the leather sofa giving under Stiles as he sits down, and then Derek too.

“How is your dad doing?” Derek asks.

“Fine. Good. He doesn’t even have to take that many medicines now,” Stiles answers. He pauses and then says, “The bills have been cleared and now dad is asking how I did it. I don’t know what to tell him.”

“Tell him the truth. It was a gift from the pack,” Derek says in a gentler tone.

“Yeah,” Stiles throat click as he swallows, “yeah, I think I will.”

Isaac can barely hear the next words that Stiles utters, lower than a whisper.

“Der, can we, can we … one more time, please?” Stiles says and Isaac can imagine perfectly Stiles sitting with his head down and his hands clutching each other.

“Stiles, I don’t have any at my hand to..”

“No, no, not for that. Just. If you want to. Only if you want to I mean,” Stiles interrupts and says. 

There is a long pause there before Derek breathes out, “Ok Stiles, Ok.”

Both then get up and go to Derek’s bedroom, the sounds muted over the walls and suddenly Isaac, whose nose clears for a second, smells the salt of tears from the living room an upstairs. And it was not only Stiles who had been teary eyed. 

Isaac sits slumped over and thinks, ‘What the fuck was that?’

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………....

 

At the next pack meeting, Stiles sits subdued while Derek scowls sadly at the ceiling or the floor. Or at least they do till Lydia just about stamps her foot and snarls out, “I cannot believe how stupid you both are being. Just admit that you fucking love each other, fuck the blues out of each other and get back to the problem that is threatening our home once again. Seriously you guys, I expected more from your lovelorn fuckers. I mean I was all for this thing working out on it’s own, but fuck, you both are so infuriatingly oblivious that it’s beyond shocking. Just kiss and makeup and stop looking so disgustingly sad. I can’t believe that you have to be scolded into admitting your feelings to each other!”

Derek says, “Huh?” to that while Stiles intones, “Wha?” to the same.

Isaac nods his head as he says, “I totally agree. It is ridiculous. All of us know that you guys love each other, except, it sees apart from you, and it used to be funny, but now it is just a bucket of needless angst over something that is not true. You need to stop being so self centered or whatever is stopping your from admitting your feeling and stuff.”

Stiles seems to have got his tongue and strength back as he scoffs loudly, “Derek does not _love_ me!” at the same time Derek says in a shocked voice, “Stiles does not love me,” like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

They look at each other then, the denial from both showing how they did not deny their own love.

Stiles licks his suddenly dry lips and asks, “Do you?” There is hope brimming on his face as well as hurt, as if already readying himself for rejection.

Derek stands up, crosses the room to Stiles, kisses him on the lips chastely and says, “With all that I am.”

Stiles immediately bursts into tears, hiccoughing ‘I love you too’ into Derek’s neck while the rest of the pack actually throw up their hands and cheer. Lydia rubs her head at the enormous stupidity of the pair before heading to the kitchen to bring out a bottle of champagne that she drinks straight from the bottle. They party the whole night, with Derek and Stiles sticking to each other. Lydia and Isaac just shake their heads at the pair fondly and clink their glasses which did come out later. “May these fools never grow out of their love,” Lydia toasted. 

“Amen,” said Isaac before chugging his wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how you guys find the ending but I just hope it touched what you wanted. Thank you for all of your encouraging comments and kudos. It is always an immense pleasure writing for you guys. As obvious, no beta. Thanks for reading:P

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and give kudos


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